


Nobody Could Ever Dream You

by linndechir



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Frottage, M/M, Sex in a Car, Tattoos, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-02 16:41:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6573928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linndechir/pseuds/linndechir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One night as they come back from the Barns, Ronan is in no hurry to get out of the Pig.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nobody Could Ever Dream You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Liviania](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liviania/gifts).



“Why do I have to keep my eyes closed?”

“Just do it, okay?” Ronan sounded annoyed, but then there was nothing unusual about that. Gansey was happy to indulge him, kept his eyes firmly closed, focused on the sensation of the Pig's driver seat against his back, his sweaty polo shirt sticking to it in the summer heat, the smell of gasoline and the Pig's seats thick in the smouldering night air, the chirping of crickets outside, and much closer the rustling of fabric on the passenger's seat.

Warmth came closer in the hot air, and then Gansey felt Ronan's hand on his shoulder, his knee pushing against Gansey's thigh, and the next thing he knew Ronan's weight was on his lap. He opened his eyes in surprise, only to realise that Ronan had stripped down before straddling him. Pale skin shone in the moonlight, his eyes were almost black in the shadows, the edges of his tattoo crept up on his neck. He didn't look real in the dark – no, that wasn't right. He looked real, but somehow not fully human. There was something too wild, too hidden in Ronan's eyes for a creature that was entirely of this world.

“I didn't say you could look,” Ronan said, sounding almost a bit sullen, though his glare faltered when Gansey ran his hands over his sides. Ronan's skin was already slick with sweat – they'd spent the afternoon at the Barns, and even in the shadows of the old trees it had been unbearably hot.

“Oops,” Gansey said and laughed, or started to before Ronan's lips were on his, hungry and demanding and swallowing the rest of his laughter. Ronan always kissed as if his life depended on it, unrestrained and all consuming. Like a storm rolling over Gansey and all he could do was gasp into his mouth, moan under every bite and try to give back at least a little. And then Ronan's hand smacked Gansey's away from his side.

“Didn't say you could touch either,” he mumbled against Gansey's lips.

“What? Why not?” But Gansey pulled his hands back obediently, only let his fingertips rest lightly on Ronan's hips. He'd learnt not to push Ronan, there had been too many times when Ronan had jumped out of his bed in the middle of it, desire suddenly turned into anger and all Gansey could do then was to let him go and hope Ronan wouldn't get up to anything stupid.

But instead of one of Ronan's usual glares, he got a slightly annoyed, “Because it's too fucking hot for that.”

“You're the one on my lap,” Gansey said, disbelief in his voice. He still went along when Ronan pulled his shirt over his head, even though the vinyl of the Pig's seats was anything but comfortable against his bare skin. He promptly hit his wrist against the ceiling of the car, flinched with a low groan.

“Maybe we should have gone to bed,” Gansey complained, even as Ronan took his hand and guided it to his mouth. Hot lips brushing over the soft skin on the inside of Gansey's wrist, the light scratch of the stubble Gansey was sure Ronan only grew to show off and annoy him, and then Ronan bit his wrist lightly, his dark, deep eyes on Gansey's. Gansey couldn't help but think of vampire stories, but he bit back the comment, didn't think Ronan would appreciate it.

It wasn't really fitting, anyway. Ronan was so much more than some lame creature out of a horror movie, he was all the darkness of Cabeswater at night mixed with the brightness Gansey remembered from Niall Lynch's startling blue eyes, he was the world's unsolved mysteries right there in Gansey's palm, he was like a twine of thorns that couldn't scratch Gansey's skin.

“No way,” Ronan said against his wrist, then grinned. “We should have done it in the BMW, though. At least my A/C actually works.”

Gansey's fingers twitched against Ronan's hips, he wanted to touch him so much it made his skin burn, but he tried to behave. Instead he ground up his hips against Ronan, felt Ronan slide closer in his lap, his bare cock pressing against Gansey's still covered groin. A low moan washed over Gansey's face, and he loved the way Ronan moaned, like something dark and precious breaking out of him, or maybe it was just that there wasn't much in the world anymore that still made Ronan feel good. 

The thought made his chest tight, it was a thought for sleepless nights in an empty bed, not for those moments when Ronan's strong hands found Gansey's hair, pulled on it while he kissed him again and ground down against him. He brushed the back of his hand over Gansey's cheek – scraped knuckles from his last fight with his brother, but they didn't smell of blood and pain now, they smelt of the rich earth of the Barns, of dried grass and strange flowers that didn't grow anywhere else in the world. They smelt the way they had used to smell, before. _Before._

Ronan kept kissing him, devouring him, his cock hard and slick against Gansey's stomach, his weight heavy on top of him, like there was nothing else in the world but them and the Pig, their own little realm cut off from everything else. Ronan only broke the kiss when he hit his head against the roof of the car, cursed a blue streak against Gansey's lips while Gansey just laughed, and laughed harder the more Ronan glared at him for it. He felt weightless in the summer heat, despite the vinyl sticking to his back and the almost unbearable heat of Ronan's legs pressed against his.

“Don't say we would have had more room in the BMW, you know that isn't true,” Gansey said, still smiling. Ronan didn't reply, leant in to kiss Gansey's neck and his shoulder, and the way he bowed his head let Gansey glimpse parts of his shoulders and upper back. The dark lines of his tattoo looked like liquid ink in the moon light, like they were alive somehow, and every time Ronan shifted on top of him, they moved, like snakes slithering underneath Ronan's skin, alive and wild and as untameable as he was. Gansey wished he could be one of them, sneaking into Ronan's skin, burying himself in him, losing himself in everything that Ronan was and Gansey never could be. Losing himself in Ronan's dreams.

He still tried not to touch, even as Ronan's warm, dry fingers slid down over Gansey's chest, his sides, slow and teasing like he was planning to map Gansey's whole torso before they reached his waistband. Paused there, too, slipping underneath it and up again several times while Ronan's teeth worried at the side of Gansey's neck, probably leaving a mark there, and Gansey didn't feel like telling him off for once.

“This is payback for last week, isn't it?” he asked. Last week, Gansey's bed in Monmouth, when Gansey had woken him with his lips on Ronan's cock, when he'd whispered against sensitive skin that he wanted Ronan to hold still or he'd stop, and he'd taken his time teasing him, kissing and licking and lapping at overheated flesh until his jaw was sore before he'd let Ronan come, and Ronan had kept shivering for minutes after that. Gansey had wondered if that was how Ronan felt when he went racing, drunk almost and like nothing in the world could stop him.

Ronan only hummed against his neck in reply, but his hands finally worked Gansey's chinos open, pulled his hard cock out, and Gansey gasped against Ronan's shoulder, fingers tightening involuntarily on Ronan's hips. That earned him a painful bite on his neck, even as Ronan stroked his dick for the first time, deliberately slow.

“Hold still,” his voice a dirty promise that Gansey forced himself to obey, and in a way getting to rest his fingertips against Ronan's hot skin was almost worse than not touching him at all. 

Ronan shifted closer still until he could wrap his hand around both their cocks, his touch slick with sweat and pre-come, and as he started moving his arm, his hips pushing against Gansey's with every stroke, Gansey kept watching the ever-shifting patterns of the tattoo, thorns and hooks and softer twirls reshaping and reforming themselves, and if he hadn't known better he could have sworn there was magic in that tattoo rather than just ink and skill.

“You're incredible,” he whispered against Ronan's shoulder, felt more than heard the brief laugh that went through him. 

“And you're a sap,” Ronan replied, but Gansey didn't miss how his hand started to move faster, more urgently, how his thighs quivered against Gansey's like he barely managed to keep his balance on the car seat.

“Incredible,” he repeated. “Like something from a dream.”

Ronan moaned at that, his hips stuttering, his grip tightening so hard it almost hurt for a moment, and then he came over his hand and both their cocks. He kept going, his grip slick and filthy as he jerked Gansey off. Gansey felt as if he couldn't breathe for a few moments, the air in his lungs too hot, the heat so thick it made him feel dizzy, and he could barely gasp when he followed suit, his hips arching up from the seat, his fingers once again tightening on Ronan's hips.

Ronan was swearing and it took Gansey a moment to realise that when he'd pushed up from the seat, he'd slammed Ronan back against the steering wheel. Ronan was rubbing the small of his back in annoyance, but a grin was still tugging at the corners of his mouth, and Gansey answered it with a wide smile.

For a minute they were both quiet, Ronan still on his lap, settling down again, his hands stilled on Gansey's shoulders while Gansey finally got to touch him, to retrace the dark lines on his back. He was looking at Ronan's collarbone, flushed because he could feel that Ronan never looked anywhere else but at his face. There was nothing more heated than the gaze of a Lynch who wasn't paying attention to anything else in the world, not even the hottest summer night.

“Nobody could ever dream you, Gansey,” he said eventually. His tone was odd, too serious for what had just happened, too dark. Sad almost.

Before Gansey could think of a reply to that, before he could ask what the hell Ronan had meant, Ronan had climbed off him, cleaned himself up with Gansey's shirt because he was still Ronan and therefore an asshole, then pulled his jeans back on. Didn't bother with his underwear, Gansey noticed, nor with his shirt or shoes before he climbed out of the car. The soft crunch of hot stones under bare feet, and then Ronan glanced in through the window.

“You coming?” He sounded like this was a night like any other, like everything was still the way it had been before they had started this. “I'm fucking starving. We should order pizza.”

And then he was gone, his steps crunching on the way to Monmouth, and Gansey followed him with his eyes. 

Nobody could have ever dreamt Ronan either, he thought, not even Niall. No human mind could encompass everything that was Ronan Lynch, probably not even Ronan himself. He'd never know everything that went on in Ronan's mind, no more than he'd ever be able to remember all the entangled lines of his tattoo. 

But he didn't need to know all of that to know that Ronan was his.


End file.
